


Handling The Hitter

by Cassie Morgan (BADFalcon)



Category: Leverage
Genre: Angst, BDSM, M/M, h/c, spoilers for S3 finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-15
Updated: 2011-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-30 15:43:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/333345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BADFalcon/pseuds/Cassie%20Morgan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Eliot needs to let go and decompress, Nate is the one he turns to</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handling The Hitter

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [spnfan99](http://spnfan99.livejournal.com/) for the 2011 [leveragexchange](http://leveragexchange.livejournal.com/). spnfan99 requested _A slash story with either Eliot/Nate or Eliot/Alec. I love slave fic with Eliot as the slave. Or just slash with Eliot as the bottom. I want both to be willing participants. No noncon. If it is slave, the owner wishes he didn't own and the slave loves him. KINK please! I love just about every kink that ever existed. Especially really tight immobility bondage and sounding._

"Damnit, Nate," Eliot growled when Nate plucked the glass from his hand. Eliot snatched it back, swallowed the single malt Scotch in one gulp and slammed the empty glass back down on the table.

"I didn’t say anything,” Nate held his hands up, perching one hip on the edge of the table, watching with one eyebrow quirked as Eliot filled the glass again, knocking another drink back. “That’s not you...” 

“Really?” Eliot interrupted with a snort and a shake of his head, pushing his hair back behind his ears. “How would you know? You don't know me. You really gonna to do this? You, of all people, have no right to lecture me about drinking alcohol,” he snapped. “You, Nate? Do I have to remind you...” 

Nate waited for Eliot to pour another drink before taking the glass from his hand. “Yeah...” he knocked his own drink back in one swallow, taking the bottle from Eliot. “Yeah, I’m an alcoholic. Functioning, I might add. You, on the other hand, don’t drink. Not like that. And when you do, you don’t drink Scotch, you drink beer.”

“Everyone knows I drink beer,” Eliot snapped, “even Damien fuckin' Moreau!” He knocked his chair backwards and started to pace in agitation, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Nate let him pace back and forth a couple of times in silence before standing himself and moving into Eliot’s path, hands on his shoulders. He frowned at the tension in the muscles, the waves of anger and frustration radiating from the younger man. “Eliot?” 

Eliot pushed Nate away and started to take another step but stopped and sank back down into the chair. Nate sat down too, noticing for the first time how tired Eliot looked, the lines around his eyes tight. 

“Talk to me, Eliot,” Nate encouraged. He caught Cora eye and signalled for her to bring two Miller Lite’s. He watched as Eliot lifted the bottle to his lips, then sighed and put it down. Leaning forward, Nate placed his hands on Eliot’s knees, thumbs rubbing gentle circles over Eliot’s thighs. 

A large sigh escaped Eliot and his shoulders slumped. His gaze dropped to a spot on the floor and he shook his head. “I’m tired,” he eventually admitted, his hands dropping on top of Nate’s, lacing their fingers together. “The last few months... all this shit with Moreau...” Eliot trailed off, trying to find the words. “I used to be a horrible man, Nate. The things I done, most of them for him, I know you know about some of them but not all, not the worst and I hope you never know. I thought that maybe, somehow, I’d atoned, that I could move past it but I ain’t and I can’t and I’m still the man I used to be.” 

“You’re not,” Nate promised vehemently. He reached up and cupped Eliot’s cheek in one hand before leaning and kissing him gently on the lips. “You’re nothing like him, nothing like Moreau. Think about all the good you’ve done, the people you’ve helped,” he insisted. “You’ve made a different to the lives of so many people – to those we’ve helped, to the team and to mine. I promise you you’ve made up for who Moreau forced you to be. You’re the one in control now. Moreau has nothing over you. Nothing!” 

Eliot laughed humourlessly but dragged his gaze up to meet Nate’s, turned his face into Nate’s hand and pressed a kiss to his palm. “I don’t feel very in control. Feel like the complete opposite and everything’s spinnin’ out of control and I’m freefallin’” 

“If you need to fall, then let yourself fall. I’ll catch you.” Nate kissed Eliot again, the kiss quickly turning possessive, Nate’s tongue roughly parting Eliot’s lips. “I’ll always catch you. You can trust me.” 

“I trusted Da... Moreau.” Eliot flinched and cussed under his breath, pulling his hands free from Nate’s and tugging at his hair in frustration. “Sorry. Nate, I... Sorry. You’re not him.” 

“No, I’m not and you’ve got nothing to apologise for,” Nate reassured Eliot, capturing his hands again. “You just need...” 

“Don’t try and tell me what I need, Nate. You don’t know... you don’t know what I need!”  
"Oh, Eliot." Nate's gaze sharpened, his focus narrowed on Eliot's eyes. "Of course I know what you need, what you want. Possibly more than you do yourself." He pulled Eliot to his feet. “You need to learn to trust, to let go, to remember who you are and who you belong to.” He fished some bills out of his pocket to leave on the table and lead Eliot upstairs to his apartment. 

“Trust me,” Nate insisted, holding Eliot at arm’s length. He waited for Eliot to nod, short and sharp, before reaching out and unbuttoning his shirt. Carefully, he peeled off layer after layer of shirts and t-shirts until Eliot was topless and visibly fighting the urge to cover himself. “There...” Nate murmured to himself, running his hands down Eliot’s arms; the muscles twitching under the touch as Eliot forced himself to relax. “That’s it,” Nate kept up a steady stream of soothing reassurances and gentle touches; Eliot slowly calmed down, his breathing slowing and posture relaxing. “OK?” Nate again waited for Eliot’s nod, softer and smoother this time, before cupping his cheek in his hand and brushing his lips over Eliot’s “Good. Kick your boots off for me.” Eliot nodded again and crouched down, unlacing his boots and kicking them off before standing. He opened his mouth to speak but Nate interrupted him, one finger over his lips. “I’m going to take your jeans off now,” he advised, hands carefully dropping to the waistband of Eliot’s jeans. He popped the button, then slowly worked the zipper down, the rasp of metal against metal loud in the otherwise silent room. “Step out of them.” 

Eliot swallowed heavily, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. His hands curled into fists at his sides before he exhaled slowly and relaxed them. Looking up, he met Nate’s eyes. “You don’t need to tell me everything you’re doing,” he said simply.

Nate chuckled in reply, and raised one eyebrow. He rested one hip on the back of the sofa and crossed his arms over his chest.

Sighing, Eliot shook his head, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes as he stepped out of his jeans, standing only in faded red boxer briefs. 

“Nice. Lose them.” Nate stood back up, circling Eliot slowly, the fingers of one hand in constant contact with the younger man’s skin. He traced a healing wound on Eliot’s left shoulder; Eliot shuddering as the memories of San Lorenzo crashed through him, triggering older ones about his past with Moreau. Nate pulled Eliot close against him, holding him tight, rubbing his upper arms, kissing his neck until Eliot shuddered against him with a shaky breath. “I’ve got you,” Nate promised again. “Trust me, Eliot.”

“I do,” came Eliot’s shaky reply, even as he relaxed back against Nate, letting himself enjoy the feel of his lover’s arms around him. “I do trust you, Nate.” 

Nate nodded and turned Eliot to face him. He ran his fingers gently across Eliot’s cheeks, kissing him softly. “Go upstairs and get in the shower. Get the spray comfortably warm and stand under it. Wait for me.” 

Eliot nodded and kissed Nate before turning and climbing the spiral stairs to the bathroom. 

Nate poured himself a shot of Scotch, swallowing it down in one mouthful and following it with another. He slowly undressed then followed Eliot up the stairs. Eliot was in shower, as instructed; standing at the far end of the stall, arms folded on the white tiles, head pillowed on them. Water-heavy hair covered his face and the power of the spray was having a visible effect relaxing the tense muscles of his shoulders. Opening the door to the stall, Nate called to Eliot softly before stepping in behind him; the last thing he wanted to do was spook a jumpy hitter! 

Eliot looked over his shoulder at the sound of Nate’s voice, the corners of his lips curving up in a smile. “Hey.” He straightened up and turned around, one hand grabbing hold of Nate’s wrist and tugging him close, under the spray. Cupping Nate’s face in his hands, Eliot kissed him, deeply and slowly. “I... Nate, look, about earlier...” 

“Don’t apologise, Eliot,” Nate interrupted him with a kiss. “I get it and you’ve got nothing to apologise for. Just relax, trust me and let me take care of you?” 

Sagging against Nate, Eliot simply nodded and closed his eyes. 

Nate smiled and pressed a kiss to Eliot’s temple before taking a bottle of shower gel from the soap dish. He turned Eliot around, then squeezed a blob of gel onto his hand before starting to work it into Eliot’s skin; massaging as well as building up lather. Methodically, he cleaned Eliot from head to toe, front and back, working the stiff muscles in his neck, shoulders and back. Eliot groaned with both relief and pleasure, arching into Nate’s touch as his cock started to harden and fill. 

By the time Nate’s attention turned to his hair and Nate’s fingers were massaging his scalp, Eliot was almost boneless, purring and arching his back, nudging his head against Nate’s hand. His eyes were hooded and dark, his cock fully erect and his breath coming in low pants. A moan of loss escaped him, as Nate rinsed the last of the conditioner from his hair and turned off the shower. 

Taking Eliot by the hand, Nate lead him to the bedroom, snagging a handful of towels on the way. He wrapped one towel around his own waist, one twisted around Eliot’s hair as used he used the third to dry the younger man off, placing the towel on the floor and instructing Eliot to sit. Sitting on the edge of the bed, legs either side of Eliot, Nate unwrapped the towel from Eliot’s hair, gently but briskly drying it before working a comb through the length, smoothing out any tangles; the touch left Eliot even more aroused and needy, whimpering softly with every exhalation. 

Smiling and nodding, Nate stood and pulled Eliot to his feet. His kissed him again, slowly, deeply, hands playing through his hair, before running down his throat and back to leave a stinging slap on each ass cheek. “Tell me your safe word,” he demanded. 

Eliot groaned and bucked his hips back. “San Lorenzo.” 

“Huh.” Nate’s eyebrow rose and he held Eliot at arm’s length. Eliot met his gaze firmly and Nate nodded. “OK then, San Lorenzo it is,” he confirmed with a sharp nod. Reaching under the bed, he hauled out the large black box. Lifting it up, he searched through it and handed Eliot a medium-sized butt plug and lube. “I think you know what to do with this,” he instructed, smirking at Eliot’s quick inhalation. Eliot nodded and bent over the edge of the bed, deftly stretching himself open and inserting the plug, panting softly. Nate hummed his approval, patting the base of the plug and making Eliot groan. He pulled Eliot to his feet, spinning him around and kissing him again, hard, as he toyed with the plug making Eliot rock back and forth, hands clutching at his shoulders. “Arms by your sides, hands in fists,” Nate ordered and reached into the black box again, pulling out a pair of leather mitts. “First,” he said conversationally, “I’m going to lock your fists into these.” Nate knelt down at Eliot’s feet and made quick work of lacing Eliot’s hands into them, locking the mitts around his wrists. Tracing the leather with his fingers, Nate smiled as he stood up, his fingers running up Eliot’s arms. “Next, comes my favourite bit... the cling wrap.” He pulled the rolls from the box and laid them on the bed. “We wrap each arm on its own,” he continued, as he did so; deftly wrapping the clingwrap around Eliot’s left arm, from wrist to bicep before repeating the action on his right arm. “Comfortable?” Looking up, Nate met Eliot’s eyes; dark and hooded with arousal, his lips parted and his chest rising and falling heavily. “Answer me, Eliot.” 

“Yeah...” Eliot breathed. He blinked and met Nate’s eyes. He tried to flex his arms, lips curving upwards at the restriction caused by the wrap. “Yeah. Yeah, comfortable.” 

“Good. Now we’re moving on to your legs.” Starting at the ankle, Nate wrapped each of Eliot’s legs up to his crotch, pausing briefly to play with his cock and balls; as Eliot groaned and arched his hips. “There. And now for the pièce de résistance – full immobility. If it gets too tight or you start to lose any feeling, you tell me right away,” and with that Nate manoeuvred Eliot to stand with his legs together, soft padding placed between his knees and ankles before he started wrapping the cling wrap around both of Eliot’s legs, binding them together. He slowly worked his way up Eliot’s calves and thighs, binding his already covered hands to his legs, adding layers until he was satisfied. Glancing up, he nodded to himself at the way Eliot was visibly relaxing, his head dropping forward and his hair falling over his face. Smiling softly, Nate continued wrapping the plastic around Eliot’s hips, criss-crossing his torso and swiping the palm of his hand over his now-restrained cock; a ragged moan escaping Eliot, who bucked his hips into the touch and overbalanced, tipping forward with a gasp as he was unable to right himself, relying on Nate to steady him – after a couple of beats long enough to let him struggle. “I’ve got you,” Nate reassured him, hands skimming over the plastic. “I’ll always catch you, remember?” 

“Yeah... Yeah I know that, Nate. But sometimes I just need a little reminder.” Eliot murmured. He licked his lips, his eyes sliding closed. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, flexing his muscles against the plastic and sighing when it didn’t give. “Nate...” 

Nate stood up and kissed Eliot, running a hand through his hair, scratching short nails across his scalp. “I know. Now, let’s get you on the bed and finish this up, shall we?” He moved Eliot until he lay on his back on the bed, then continued wrapping the plastic around his chest, pausing briefly to pinch and play with his nipples; Eliot arched up as much as he could, cock swelling against the restriction of the wrap, drawing another groan from the bound man. “Anyone would think you liked this,” Nate teased, before his expression grew serious. “The wrap is going around your head now, covering your mouth and eyes, but not your nose. If you need to call a stop, you grunt three times. Do you understand?” 

Eliot nodded. “Three grunts to stop,” he repeated at Nate’s insistence. He closed his eyes again, swallowing heavily as Nate started to layer the wrap around his face, leaving his nose free, as promised, and pressing comfortably tight against his skin, blocking out sight and sound until he was bound head to toe in plastic wrap, completely immobile, unable to even rock from side to side, no matter how much he struggled. He sighed against the wrap, his whole body tensing, then shuddering and going limp, relaxing into his bondage. Focusing on the restriction, on not being able to move, to see, to speak and to barely hear, on only able to feel the plastic warming around him, Eliot found himself warm and comfortable, completely relaxed within minutes. He drifted, muscles loose and mind clear, nothing existing except for the plastic wrapped around him. With no way of judging, the passage of time, Eliot simply lay there, floating towards sleep. 

A touch to the bottom of his foot jolted him back from the edge, instinct making him kick out but his bondage stopping him. He moaned against the plastic, whole body jerking at a second scratch of short nails against sensitive, ticklish flesh. Knowing it was Nate but with the rest of his senses dulled, the repeated touch made Eliot thrash on the bed, struggling but unable to escape. 

Nate stopped as suddenly as he had started, leaving Eliot alone again to calm down; sucking in deep breaths through his nostrils even as faint shudders wrecked his body. This time, though, there was the insistent itch of cooling sweat trickling down his back. Eliot fought to ignore it, groaning softly, fingers desperate to scratch but trapped inside the leather mitts and bound to his legs. He fought to pull his body back under control, once again focusing on the restriction of the plastic wrap and the dullness of his normally razor sharp senses

“I knew this would work,” Nate commented, voice a beat louder than normal to compensate for the plastic over Eliot’s ears. He ran his hand up Eliot’s leg, a soft sigh at the feel of the plastic. “It’s a sure fire way to get you to relax; you love the feel of it, don’t you? I’m not sure which one of us loves the feel of you all wrapped up more.” Nate’s voice, as well as his face, revealed the full extent of his arousal, pride, and relief. “And I love how you look like this as well. I wish you’d let me take photographs so you could see for yourself.” He continued running his fingers over Eliot’s plastic wrapped body; stroking, pinching, tickling, teasing until Eliot was squirming and moaning desperately, whole body lifting up off the bed. Nate chuckled and stopped once more, letting Eliot calm down but continuing to stroke gently over him, keeping him moaning softly. Once Eliot had relaxed again, Nate’s hands strayed up over his face. “Relax,” he said, fingers cupping Eliot’s jaw, thumb brushing over his lips. “Trust me.” Eliot grunted and Nate nodded before pinching Eliot’s nostrils closed. The effect was instantaneous; Eliot bucking and thrashing, fighting against the plastic wrap, whole body shaking as he tried to draw breath. “You can’t escape,” Nate continued as though nothing was happening, his voice steady as Eliot shook beneath him but he was listening intently for the three grunts that said Eliot needed him to stop. “There’s really no point trying. Just trust me and relax. I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, you’re safe. But unless you relax, you’re not going to get to breathe again. I would suggest relaxing, Eliot. ” 

Nate felt, rather than saw, Eliot trying to do so; felt him stopping his fight, felt him sinking down onto the bed. Felt the exact moment Eliot obeyed him. 

“Good boy,” Nate praised, kissed the plastic covering Eliot’s lips and released his grip on Eliot’s nostrils and sat back as he fought for breath, drawing in lungfuls of air. He kept a steadying hand on Eliot’s shoulder, a constant litany of praise. “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it? I’m gonna let you catch your breath and get some rest, I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t go anywhere.” And with that, Nate stood up, took two steps from the bed and turned to face Eliot, cock in his hand as he quickly got himself off; a low groan as he spilled his seed over his fist. He wiped his fingers clean and, shaky-legged, sat back down on the bed, continuing to run his fingers over Eliot. “You still with me?”

Eliot grunted in answer and Nate nodded. 

“Time to get you unwrapped. I’m going to start with your head. I’m going to be using bandage scissors but you need to stay very still, do you understand?” 

Eliot grunted once again and Nate picked up the scissors, starting to cut away the layers of wrap covering Eliot’s face, freeing his eyes, nose and mouth. His eyes stayed closed but Eliot lifted his head, exhaled deeply, licked his lips then parted them to speak. Nate pressed a finger over them, indicating he should keep quiet until he was fully free. Eliot nodded, sinking back down on the bed again. 

Nate slowly and steadily freed Eliot from the plastic, wiping the sweat from his skin with a towel as he went until Eliot was completely unwrapped. Sliding onto the bed next to him, Nate pulled an unresisting Eliot into his arms and ran the back of his hand down Eliot’s face. Eliot smiled and kissed Nate’s knuckles.

“Thank you,” Eliot whispered hoarsely. “Nate, I...” 

Nate nodded, brushing his lips over Eliot’s. “I know,” he said simply, holding a glass of water to Eliot’s lips. “Drink. I don’t want you getting dehydrated.” 

Eliot nodded and sipped at the water; shaking his head in amused affection when Nate glared at him, telling him to drink the whole thing. He emptied the glass, placed it on the floor next to the bed and curled back into Nate, arms wrapped tightly around his waist, head on his shoulder. 

Nate returned the embrace, pressing a kiss to Eliot’s temple. “You should get some rest. No arguments,” he insisted at Eliot’s half-hearted protests. “Sleep, Eliot. I’ve got you.”

~El Fin~


End file.
